


I'm sinking in until you return

by heavenisalibrary



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, also clara's a lesbian, and i refuse any contradictory reality, but mostly just for funsies and flirting, i guess a little bit of river/clara, that was my favorite speculation leading up to her arrival on the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenisalibrary/pseuds/heavenisalibrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor flailed, removing his arm from around River and spinning to glare at her, wagging a finger in her face. River merely raised a brow. “You wanted to marry me, you know — you’ve done it again how many times. Honestly, River, you act like I tricked you into it — ”</p><p>“You sort of did, sweetie, all things considered,” River said, and before he could reply she turned to Clara and added, “but the sex is fantastic so I’ve got no complaints.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm sinking in until you return

**Author's Note:**

> Silly little piece of nothing. I think this was supposed to be a River/Clara piece for someone before we even met Clara, but I couldn't quite commit so I just tacked on a haphazard ending. Basically: Clara, the Doctor, and River go to a ball with pretty dresses and lots of flirting.

Traveling with the Doctor was the things dreams were made of, but that was to be expected — when a man with a foot-shaped head, purple tweed, and a bowtie spun out of a police box and asked you if you wanted to travel through time and space with him, you’d be hard-pressed to not think it a dream. The first few times out Clara quickly realized that the Doctor’s noninterference policy didn’t even bother to masquerade as a vague guideline: he popped in and out of worlds and times, drawn to trouble like a moth to a flame, messed things up a bit more before finally fixing them, and then warned her about interfering yet again. It was a bit of a lark, really, but Clara didn’t mind. The Doctor had a mile-long list of foibles and eccentricities, and she adjusted to them fairly quickly. They visited a planet made entirely out of wax, stopped by the twelfth century, and spent one evening in a nightclub in Atlantis (although the lattermost trip ended very, very badly and more because the Doctor was a terrible dancer than because it was submerged beneath miles and miles of saltwater.)

She came to expect certain things of her newly acquired madman. Chaos, danger, lots and lots of running, mostly — with the occasional thrilling heroic and cringe-worthy wordplay thrown in to keep things interesting. He poked and prodded at her for information which she found a bit tiresome; talking about herself was the last thing she wanted to do when the whole of time and space was waiting to be explored, but she was far from stupid. She could tell that he was needling with purpose. There was something he wanted the answer to, and he didn’t know how to ask the question. Curious, though unwilling to ask, Clara humored him, although quickly learned that, though he was keen to learn about her, he seldom offered personal information. She knew he’d traveled with others before her, but she couldn’t get him to tell her about any of them. Clara had begun to wonder what terrible things had befallen his companions in the past. She did not, then, expect to run into one of his apparent former companions in the middle of a ball on some distant moon.

It was a fancy affair, floating chandeliers and tables and tables piled with delicious food. Everything was wood or white or gold, interspersed with the muted colors of the partygoers’ dresses and the dark, clean lines of tuxedos. The Doctor had gotten particularly dressed up, she’d noticed, wearing tails and even a top hat — they’d almost been late because he’d insisted on checking his hair first, which she found odd, but had pulled him along after her anyway. Her own dress was something they’d picked up in a local shop, pastel pink to go with the pale, posh look of the event; women in pastels twirled around her like fresh flowers, soft and lovely in the dim lighting. She was standing along the edge of the dance floor, the Doctor’s shoulder pressed against hers as he shifted anxiously from foot to foot, pulling at the sleeves of his jacket and adjusting his bowtie every few moments.

“You’d best stop twitching,” Clara said, bumping her shoulder against his and giving him a reproachful look, “it’s giving me anxiety.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quietly, speaking into his hand as he ran it over his face, then up and through his hair, giving it a ridiculous little fluff that made Clara snort.

“Honestly, what’s going on, Doctor? You haven’t been able to stand still all evening.”

“Nothing’s going on! Nothing at all. I promised you a party, and we’re at a party — see?” he gestured about them, his hands upturned and expansive as he spun about, the tails of his jacket flaring dramatically behind him. He leaned in to tweak her nose with his fingers. “Lovely, normal, quiet party with people and floating chandeliers, which are quite cool, really, yeah? Look at the chandeliers and stop fussing.”

“Well, excuse me,” Clara sniffed, crossing her arms, though she had a bit of trouble disguising the smile his antics brought on. She had, by now, realized that he was actually frighteningly brilliant, and when he needed to he could use words with such remarkable accuracy to build someone up or break them down — but failing that, he was rambling and bumbling to the point of absurdity. When he was performing a function he was unstoppable, but when he was just being, he was more than a bit useless. She peered at him from the corner of her eye for a moment before adding, “are you looking for someone?”

“No, ‘course not,” he said, a bit too quickly. 

Clara grinned. “Are we meeting someone here, Doctor?”

“No!”

“Fine,” Clara said. “May as well dance, then. Fancy a go?”

The Doctor looked at her briefly and straightened his bowtie, then looked out to the crowd of people. He shifted back and forth on his feet for a moment, adjusting the top hat on his head. He lifted a hand, and began to extend it toward Clara but at the last moment seemed to become profoundly nervous and snatched it back, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his hands into his armpits. “Best not,” he said with a shake of his head, pressing his lips in a tight line and looking straight ahead.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll go on my own. Stay here and fidget.”

The Doctor uncrossed his arms long enough to salute her, but then quickly returned to his previous position, and Clara left him to his totally bizarre devices to circumnavigate the room. She considered asking one of the gentlemen standing about the fringes of the room if they’d dance with her, but she wasn’t totally sure what the customs here were, and whether or not that would be frowned upon. Usually she wouldn’t mind stirring up a spot of trouble, nor would the Doctor, but she was damn sure he was waiting for someone, and she was dying to find out whom. She was eying him from across the room — still tugging at his clothes and craning that ridiculous neck as he peered into the crowd — when she suddenly felt a one hand grab hers and another hand press into her lower back as she was abruptly guided to the dancefloor. When she reached the center, she spun around to find herself in the arms of a woman with more hair than she could mentally account for.

“Hello, Clara,” she said with a smile that had more than a few secrets tucked into the corner. When Clara just blinked at her, the woman merely smiled, “bit early for you, then? Ah, well. Professor River Song — I know the Doctor. We’ve met before, just not yet.”

“You’re a time traveler,” Clara blurted.

“Of course,” River said. “He doesn’t let you think he’s the only one, does he? He can get so insufferable around new companions, acting like he knows everything and been everywhere. Once you’ve seen him in just his pants, it’s easier to get over the whole lonely god act.”

Clara blinked, then cringed as River spun her around the dance floor with no small amount of deftness. She was clearly a woman accustomed to being in the lead. “I don’t want to see the Doctor in his pants.”

River threw her head back and laughed. “Fair enough — he’s a bit scrawny, isn’t he? He grows on you.”

Clara laughed a bit, feeling more than a little baffled — it was easy enough to swallow that River Song traveled in time like the Doctor, and so she might know Clara though Clara didn’t know her, and it would explain who the Doctor was looking for. But beyond being taken off guard, River’s presence was a bit blinding — her hands were strong and firm where they held Clara, and she moved with a self-assuredness that was more than a little intimidating. Her hair flared out her around her face in perfect, golden ringlets, glowing in the warm light and giving her an almost ethereal look; her eyes were bright and sharp, and had the same strange, old quality of the Doctor’s, though her skin was smooth and unlined. Her smile was quick and bright, her laugh low and throaty and it was only when she noticed River smiling a bit patronizingly at her that Clara realized she’d been staring.

“Sorry, I just — how do you know the Doctor?”

“We go way back,” River said, giving Clara a twirl. Clara noticed River’s dress for the first time as River brought her closer. Whereas Clara’s dress was pastel and every other women (and a couple of men) wore equally muted tones, River wore a vibrant, deep blue that set off her eyes and made Clara think of the TARDIS. The fabric was thick and lustrous, the neckline daring enough that River looked almost in danger of spilling out of it at any given moment. “I’m not so sure of your timeline, though, love, so until the Doctor fills me in I’m afraid I can’t answer questions.”

“Do you make a habit of stealing the Doctor’s friends for a dance?”

“Only the pretty ones,” River said with a wink that made Clara’s face go a bit red, which was ridiculous, because Clara had never been the least bit modest or self-conscious.  
“He’s had many friends, then — ones he travels with,” Clara stated rather than asked. River hummed noncommittally, settling even closer to Clara. Clara rested a hand on River’s waist, the other clasped in hers. River’s pulse felt strangely syncopated against Clara’s palm. “Have you met others?”

“Yes.”

“Are you old, then?”

River laughed again. “Numbers are relative. It depends on who you ask.”

“Relative to me.”

“Not sure how old you are.”

“Relative to the Doctor, then,” Clara said.

“Not sure how old he is. And between you and I, he’s not sure either.”

“The TARDIS,” Clara asked next, not missing River’s smile, “you’ve been in the TARDIS?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have your own TARDIS?” Clara asked, suddenly intrigued by the idea. The song ended and River walked Clara off to the side of the room, her hand still resting on Clara’s waist. “Is that how you get around? Are there loads of TARDISes just floating around out there?”

“Oh, no,” River said. “The Doctor’s TARDIS is the last one. I have other means. Hitchhiking, sometimes.”

“With the Doctor,” Clara said, and River shrugged.

“Occasionally,” River said. “I’m a 51st century girl, though — quite independent, thank you very much.”

“I’d kill for my own way to get around the universe,” Clara said, enraptured by the idea that River was able to flit through time and space of her own accord, perhaps even more gracefully than the Doctor’s own bumbling way of crash-landing approximately where he wanted to go.

“Travel with me sometime,” River said with a shrug, and Clara beamed. “I can show you the sights.” River’s voice dropped a bit, low and warm and sweet like honey and Clara felt her cheeks flush again, suddenly conscious of how close she and River were standing to one another — she hadn’t noticed in her enthusiasm to learn more about the Doctor’s mysterious friend, but now that she was cognizant of it, she was hyper aware of it; River’s hand on her hip still, River’s distractingly lovely face so close to hers, the purr of River’s voice. 

“That sounded a bit like a come on, Professor,” Clara said with a smile to match River’s growing grin.

“A bit?” River said. “I must be losing my touch.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Clara said, leaning in a bit as the hand River was resting on her hip became a tighter grip. “Still feels good to me.”

“Cheeky,” River said.

“Flirt,” Clara accused.

“Tease,” River said. “Have you seen you, darling? Good enough to eat in that dress.” River pressed closer still, totally invading Clara’s space, though Clara hardly minded. “No wonder the Doctor snatched you up.”

Clara snorted at that. “I’m not sure the Doctor thinks that way.”

“Thinks what way?” the Doctor asked, poking his head over Clara’s shoulder. She stepped back from River instinctively, looking a bit alarmed to have him pop up like that. Clara turned to look at him, but found that the Doctor’s eyes were not on Clara, but on River’s cleavage. “I, er — that is…” he trailed off, eyes wide and fastened to River’s chest as he licked his lips. 

River merely laughed. “I suppose that answers your question, hm?” She stepped toward the Doctor, placing a finger beneath his chin and lifting his gaze to hers, and Clara was more than a little delighted at the mortified shade of red the Doctor turned as he met River’s eyes. “Hello, sweetie.”

“Hello, dear,” the Doctor said, a bright grin taking over his features as he stepped toward so that they were chest to chest. He swayed forward and back on his feet like an impatient child, his eyes studiously trained on River’s face though Clara could tell he was struggling. “That dress suits you.”

“Does it really?”

“Frames your best assets, certainly.”

River slapped his arm, her expression offended though her tone was coy. “And here I thought you loved me for my sense of adventure and coolness under pressure.”

“Among other things,” the Doctor said, grinning ear to ear — it wasn’t an expression Clara had ever really seen on him before. “But the fact that no one in the room can take their eyes off of you is certainly worth mentioning.”

“And I do love when you mention it.”

“I know you do,” he said, his eyes glinting as he leaned nearer to her. One of his hands took up residence on her lower back, pulling her into him, his nose just barely touching hers as she grinned back.

“I know you know,” she said, and then he kissed her, and Clara let out a great yelp of surprise.

“It is a snog box, I knew it — you’ve got space girlfriends all over the place and —”

“Clara!” the Doctor exclaimed, pulling back from River and waving his arms about, all of the sexy flirting from moments before gone the moment he looked away from River. “The TARDIS is not a snog box — ”

“ — she is a bit, sweetie —”

“ — and River is not my space girlfriend, she’s my wife.”

“That one I won’t fight you on,” River said, curling herself into his side, one arm around his waist, the other hand resting over his stomach as she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m sorry for playing coy with you, Clara dear, but I wasn’t sure if he’d know — time travel, and all — so I didn’t want to make you keep secrets on my behalf.”

“You have a wife,” Clara said, blinking at the picture the pair of them made. “You. You have a wife?”

The Doctor nodded enthusiastically.

“And this is her?”

The Doctor nodded again.

Clara turned to River. “Were you drunk?”

“Mm, not the first time,” River said. “Sober as a judge.”

“Oi,” Clara said, “I’m so sorry.”

“I get that quite a lot,” River said. 

The Doctor flailed, removing his arm from around River and spinning to glare at her, wagging a finger in her face. River merely raised a brow. “You wanted to marry me, you know — you’ve done it again how many times. Honestly, River, you act like I tricked you into it — ”

“You sort of did, sweetie, all things considered,” River said, and before he could reply she turned to Clara and added, “but the sex is fantastic so I’ve got no complaints.”

“You have sex with that?” Clara said, clicking her tongue. “My condolences.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad as all of that, really,” River said, pecking the Doctor on the cheek as he glowered at the both of them. “Come on, sweetie, let’s go for a turn.” 

River turned to press herself against the Doctor, moving his hand to rest on her lower back as she backed him onto the dance floor, tossing a wink over her shoulder to Clara. Clara thought they made a sort of funny couple — she could already tell River was made of coolness, quick wit and confident smiles, while the Doctor was a hodgepodge of flailing limbs and twitchy expressions. River was probably brilliant, Clara thought, could probably keep up with the Doctor’s madcap adventures even better than Clara could. And when the Doctor had first run into River, their exchange had been just a tiny bit sexy. Okay, Clara thought, quite a bit sexy, but then she wasn’t going to admit that without a fight.

She watched them dance together leaning against the wall behind her. For the first time she noticed that they were dressed to match — the Doctor’s bowtie was the same deep blue of River’s dress, and as River leaned back from him slightly to smile at him, she ran her fingers over it tenderly. Everything they did as they danced was tender; Clara didn’t think she’d ever seen the Doctor look so relaxed. The ridiculous tension in his frame that made him flail and spin around all the time was completely gone. Holding River in his arms, he took on a small bit of her grace, and they certainly stole all of the attention in the room — they were a bright spot in the center of the dance floor, movements perfectly in sync, and when the music slowed she couldn’t help but smile as she watched the Doctor kiss the corner of River’s mouth as she laughed, couldn’t help but feel like she understood the Doctor much better as she watched his face as he watched River.

“Space idiots,” she murmured under her breath, turning her head away just in time to catch the wink of a rather attractive countess who beckoned her to dance.


End file.
